SPARTAN A-145 Reporting
by Spartan-A145
Summary: "Have you ever wanted to be a SPARTAN? Traveling the galaxy, defending the UNSC from the covenant? I have. Now's my chance." First foray into fanfiction, i hope you all like it.


**Welcome! I'm a new author on and would like to say this: i thought my first chapter was longer than this. sorry if you all think it should be longer. I'll probably make longer chapters in the future though! Anyway, expect extremely sporadic updates, maybe even every other month. I'm not sure when exactly I'll be updating this. also, if you have any thoughts on my story thus far, please let me know! i am open to all ideas- though where the plot goes is ultimately up to me. And random ideas.**

_I do not own Halo in any way shape or form, but i do own SPARTAN-A145. He's mine. hands off Microsoft._

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Some would say that war is bloody, horrific, _inhuman_. They are right, by all accounts, but try telling that to The Covenant. What seemed like a quick war of defense, quickly turned into five years of hell. Then ten. Then fifteen. Twenty. Twenty-five. Twenty-seven. Twenty-seven years of war, death, and _hell_. We were almost wiped out, exterminated to the last man, woman, and child. Colonies fell, one after the other, starting with Harvest. But this is not that story. This is the story of a Hero. A legend. A SPARTAN.

"Born in 2520? well, you're a bit older than we'd like... but we'll make an exception. Your combat record sees to that. Welcome to the SPARTAN-III program."

The recruiter shook my hand, he almost seemed like he wanted to be somewhere else, but that might just be because of what he had to do. Have you ever wanted to be a Spartan? Traveling the galaxy, defending the UNSC from the Covenant? I have, and now's my chance. Unfortunately, i'd soon learn being a SPARTAN-III meant that I'd be put into the field almost _twelve years_ before the rest of my generation of SPARTANS. I suppose the only good thing about being among the very first SPARTAN-III's? My gear is better than the rest.

* * *

Arriving at Onyx and the place I'd be staying for the duration of my SPARTAN-III training, I felt a small sense of apprehension, fear, and uncertainty all rolled into one tangled knot in my stomach- I tried not to let it get to me. Over the course of the next few weeks I was familiarized with all current standard-issue UNSC small arms weapons, ranging from the venerable SRS99C-AM to the robust MA series of assault rifles. Following that, came learning how to operate all land, sea, air and space vehicles in use by the UNSCDF, including variations. Having mastered all the weapons and vehicles to the desired degree, i was then physically conditioned for the rest of my stay on Onyx.

Then augmentation day arrived. I won't lie, it hurt. Hurt more than i can describe, the pain was excruciating- I felt like i was going to die. I think i did, several times actually. Nobody ever told me. I was told my augmentations were experimental, for use as a testbed before the full commencement of the SPARTAN-III program went underway. Due to my experimental augmentations, i was equivalent to a SPARTAN-II, or so i'm told. Because of this, ONI decided i was worth investing a fully working MJOLNIR Mark IV Powered Assault Armor. They even threw in some additions, such as active camouflage- not as good as an elite's mind you. It was just photo-reflective panels like on ONI prowlers.

* * *

After four weeks of physical rehabilitation, it came time to don my armor. It was asymmetrical, to say the least- a Security helmet with the CBRN/CNM attachment, for operating in hazard zones and connecting to command when need be, and a gold visor. The shoulder plates went as an experimental MJOLNIR Mark V shoulder piece on the right side, and a bulky security shoulder piece on the left side. Moving down the armor, we came to a HP/PARA-FOIL chest piece, complete with a combat knife mounted directly on the chest, pointed to the left side. Below that on the left arm was a TACTICAL/TACPAD, presumably for use in hacking enemy systems and rerouting security programs. The legs were standard, except for the left thigh plate having a TACTICAL/TRAUMA KIT on it, labeled as: "REMEMBER: this is YOURS for when YOU get hit." I'm still not sure whether that was a joke or not, moving onto the knee pads they were large, slightly bulky but non-movement hindering, designated as Grenadier. The paint scheme was predominantly blackish, maybe steel toned, with splashes of red thrown in.

Putting the armor on for the first time, getting it synched up and then putting it through it's paces just felt _right_. I wondered, at the time, if this is how SPARTAN-II's always felt. Then came my first assignment.

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AN: **For clarification, yes, the SPARTAN-A145's heart did stop several times, but he was revived. this also influenced the month-long physiotherapy. As stated before, please review! I want to know how horrible/excellent I am quite desperately.**


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